Das ist mir Wurst
by Sisterhood of the Awesome
Summary: A series of short drabbles from the life of Germany and Prussia, our favorite two German bros. T for cursing and whatever else might come up. Germancest. Titled as such because the world could care less about Poetess's fail titling skills. (Das is mir Wurst- It's All Sausage to Me, used to say "I don't care")
1. Track Shorts

_A/N: Yo! This is poetess here. I'm starting a series of little drabble-y things and slapping them together into a series. And Juliet's gonna help, right? *nudgenudge* Anyway, hope you enjoy it. And we do take requests, by the way, go ahead and look at our profile for the rules. Ta ta for now!_

**Chapter One: Track Shorts**

"Ludwig, bro!' Gilbert called, struggling to untangle his earbuds. "I'm going for a run!"

"Good. You could use the exercise." Ludwig continued reading his book, not even glancing at his older brother.

"You saying that I'm fat?"

"No, although cutting back on the excessive late night drinking could help. Alcoholic beverages are not necessarily free from calories. Also, eating just before you to to sleep can cause your food to digest in improperly due to your horizontal position. Alcohol in particular can cause dehydration of your system, not to mention making your sleep harder and less- Gilbert!" Looking up, he started at his older brother's track shorts. "You cannot go out in those! It is far too cold!"

Gilbert did a mocking twirl. "You're just flustered 'cause they remind you what a sexy piece of ass I am."

"That's completely-"

"Don't try to deny it!" Gilbert dashed out the door, laughing madly.

Ludwig rubbed his temples briefly before going back to his book.

About two minutes later, the elder of the two was back, slamming the door on his way in.

"Decided to go with sweatpants after all?"

"Shut up, West." He stalked off to his room.

When Gilbert returned, he had on a pair of pants and an old jacket of Ludwig's. "Now, I'll be home in somewhere around half an hour."

Ludwig ignored him.

"Thanks for the endearing sentiments. Be good while I'm gone, 'kay?" This time, he walked outside and closed the door quietly.

The door slammed again in about thirty seconds. "Forgot my music player..." Gilbert muttered, unwilling to look his brother in the eye.

"Beautifully executed."

"Stow it." He scowled, leaving for a third time.

Turning a page of his book, Ludwig wondered how long it would be before the next interruption. Hopefully a reasonable amount of time; he was approaching the climax of the story, and he would prefer to read in peace.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the door banged again. This time, Gilbert walked straight over to his brother, ripped the book out of his hands, and flung it across the room.

"Damn you, West! Why didn't you tell me that there was a large hole in not one – not just ONE FUCKING POCKET – but both of them!? Damn you!" Angrily, he held out his cell phone, complete with mud splatters and a long, splintering crack in the screen.

Ludwig calmly stood and retrieved his book. "From now on, I recommend you ask before using other people's property without permission. That and throw their books on the floor."

"Well, you can just... just..."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"...Go jump in a lake." Gilbert finished lamely.

"Certainly, when the weather is warm enough for rational human being to be outdoors in swim attire, or," he added, glancing sharply at his older brother, "the equivalent of."

Gilbert huffed and turned towards the kitchen. "You're jealous because you can't pull off short shorts the way I do."

"On the contrary; I would much rather you kept them _on_."

He froze. "West, would you SHUT UP?"

The blond snorted contemptuously. "Don't you have a few miles to go and run?"

"No thanks to you," Gilbert countered, "I'm exhausted without even getting past the end of the road."

"It's not my fault." Finding that he couldn't focus both on the page before him and the conversation at hand, he set his book down and stood. "Should I cook dinner?"

"Don't assume you can get back on my good side so easily." Gilbert crossed his arms, pointedly facing away from him.

Although he allowed himself to roll his eyes, Ludwig couldn't help but smile. Bending down to wrap his arms around his brother's waist from behind, he whispered in his ear. "Not even with beer and wurst?"

"In that case, I suppose I could forgive you." Gilbert spun around, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. "But only if I get to help."

"Deal." Ludwig smiled gently, taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen.

Gilbert leaned over, grinning as he gave his brother's earlobe a gentle tug. "Love ya, West~"

He smiled, pulling the elder closer for one more kiss. "Love you too."


	2. Prussia and the Almighty Cheeto

_A/N: Poetess again here, although Juliet will, without exception, write the next one. Blah blah, lots of plugging, review please, you get the picture. Mmkay, enjoy!_

**Chapter Two: Prussia and the Almighty Cheeto**

It had been an extremely tiring day at work, and so help him, Ludwig was in no mood for teasing. The cold, deserted subways on the way home only echoed his mood, and by the time he was finally home, stamping snow from his boots, he was absolutely ready for an evening of peace.

Prussia, however, leaning casually against the kitchen counter and munching on a bag of Cheetoes, had a different plan in mind.

"Yo, West! Enjoy the workday?"

"Just because _you_ may sit around all day and do as you please..."

"Aw, c'mon, you're no fun."

"After the sort of things I went through today, I do believe that I have the right to be boring for a while."

"Who's gonna entertain me?"

"I imagine you could run a circus nonstop for a solid week, what with your nonstop cycle of unbearable quips. You'll think of something." Ludwig hung up his coat and took a banana from the fruit bowl on their table.

Gilbert ate quietly for a minute as his brother sat at their table and began peeling the fruit. Then inspiration struck. Pulling a Cheeto from the bag, he exclaimed, "Hey, Luddy! This one looks like a-"

"DO NOT SAY IT!" Ludwig dropped his banana and clapped his hands over his ears.

"What?" Gilbert gave him a funny look. "I was going to say that it looked like a gun. Y'know, like the one hanging over our fireplace."

"Oh." Ludwig looked sheepish.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, dude." He popped the Cheeto in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After a second, he grinned devilishly and rummaged around in the package.

"West! Lookit!" Ludwig looked up, pausing in his contemplation of whether or not he still had the stomach to eat anything or not, to see that Gilbert had just pulled the longest and thickest Cheeto from the bag.

"Gilbert. Don't you _dare_ eat that."

Gilbert completely ignored him, sliding the Cheeto into his mouth and devouring it with unmistakable relish.

Ludwig simply hid his face in agony.

Meanwhile, his brother began licking cheese powder off of his fingers. "Sorry, Hun. Couldn't help it. Looked just like you. And it was pretty goddamn delicious..." He winked teasingly at Ludwig, moving one finger all the way into his mouth before releasing it with a slight popping noise.

"Your apology might go over better if you weren't comparing me and an oversized Cheeto while sucking your fingers clean."

"Don't make it sound so _dirty_, West."

"Then stop doing... THAT!"

Gilbert didn't reply, examining the bag. "It says it's extra cheesy."

"Ach! Gil!" Ludwig banged his forehead on the table.

Gilbert turned to his brother, looked him in the eye, and with a perfectly stoic expression, asked him, "So... you still want that mostly-straight banana you've got there?"


	3. Bruder Dear

**Hallo, dear Germancest readers :D Juliet here! Got a text from our dear Poetess earlier, alerting me to the fact that I needed to submit my own ficlet for this fanfiction chain. That shout-out kicked my sorry butt into gear, and I thought it was about time I put in something a little bit… **_**better**_**. In subject, of course. Poetess's writing is actually superior to mine in many aspects. :P Still love you, schwester! **

**Anyhow, after discussing possible lines that would make or break a plot with her, we decided on one. B) Enjoy, little freaky fangirl darlings! (And no, I'm not trying to be hypocritical. We are too, after all.)**

* * *

"_DAMMIT, GIL!"_

"What's the matter, _bruder_ dear?" Gilbert taunted innocently from the other room, with a slightly malicious glint in his gaze. He lay casually sprawled across their couch, pale hair flopped over his eyes in much the same manner. Ludwig's heavy steps reached the living room before he did.

"Where did you put my report?!" the younger of the two demanded furiously. Gilbert raised both eyebrows, in keeping with the charade.

"I must say, Lud, I have no idea what you're talking about. Honest."

"My study door was locked!" he hissed, pointing one finger back the way he had come. He was glaring daggers at his brother. "_Locked_, Gilbert! If a room is _locked_, it is usually locked for a _reason_!"

"So why are you telling _me_ this?" he asked with a cocky grin. Ludwig took two short strides closer to where Gilbert lounged and reached down, hauling him up by the front of his untucked button-down shirt. At this, Gilbert was forced to abandon his guileless act.

"Something wrong, West?" he taunted anyway, a smirk that bared his teeth twisting his lips up.

"I'm _telling_ you this," Ludwig spat to the earlier question as he released his brother's shirt and shoved him, sending Gilbert stumbling, "Because my report and presentation were in that _locked_ room, on the desk! Any suggestions as to where they are _now?!_"

"How would _I_ know?"

"Because I am damn sure I locked that door. I remember putting the key _in the lock_ and locking it! You are the _only_ other person in this house!"

"Ohh_,_" Gilbert said dismissively, eyes gleaming. "So _that's _why there was writing on those papers I used to mop up the coffee I spilled earlier. But don't you worry your little blonde head about them—they're just _papers_, after all."

He didn't even see the punch that rocketed forward from Ludwig's right shoulder. But it hit his left cheekbone, so it had to have been Lud's right arm. Gilbert had thought that whatever his brother threw at him, he could handle it, but this punch sent him reeling. He pissed off Ludwig almost daily, just because he needed someone to annoy and Lud was just there. Plus, he needed to learn how to take a joke. Had he known his brother could throw a punch like that, he never would have done so.

Gilbert looked up in slight disbelief, but a tidal wave of something he had to struggle to identify quickly swamped it.

Excitement?

Of course it would be. It had to be. That's what kept him pissing off Ludwig time after time. He liked the adrenaline and excitement that came with it, and the probability of a fight—a fight of a very sensual sort, that usually wound up with both of them screaming at each other for a very different reason. But he had never seen his brother this livid about a prank he'd pulled.

"Just papers, then?" Ludwig growled, pale blue eyes looking like they would gladly burn holes through Gil's head. "_Just_ papers? Yeah, Gilbert, they were _just papers_ that, had I presented them _later today_, might have prevented _WAR!_"

Apparently, the younger's anger was such that he pulled his right fist back again, the light in his eyes burning. The cannon that was his right arm rocketed forward, but ran into Gilbert's left palm as he caught his brother's punch. The force caused a small ripple to run through his muscle, all the way up to his shoulder. Gilbert's only response was to draw his own dominant arm back and send it flying, only to crash into the lower part of Ludwig's face, eliciting a startling _crack_.

An instant reply was a liver punch that forced all breath from Gilbert's lungs, and he lost his grip on Ludwig's right fist, slowly doubling over with both hands over the right part of his body above his hips. A low groan came from deep in his chest, and he managed to jerk his chin up to glare daggers at Ludwig.

The blonde man was in the opposite position from his brother. His head was tipped back as he held his nostrils closed in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. After a moment, he lowered his chin to glare right back at Gilbert.

"You idiot," he said softly, shaking his head slightly as he stood up straight. The fact that blood was sluggishly dripping into his mouth apparently had no effect on him, and he met his brother's gaze. Somehow, a calm Ludwig seemed just a little bit more frightening than a loud, angry one. He was still pissed, there was no question about that—but now it was more a calculating, absolutely lethal anger.

Frankly, it scared the hell out of Gil.

But at the same time… the fear brought a savage happiness with it.

A gleeful snarl curled his lips as Gilbert brought himself back up fully onto his feet, heedless of the sharp stabs of pain that accompanied each breath. Almost automatically, he shifted the better part of his weight onto his toes, and his fingers curled in towards his palms as he shifted his shoulders to give him a better angle.

All of a sudden, both men were glad they'd taken boxing in high school.

Gilbert snapped off a straight right, but Ludwig leaned to the side so it passed harmlessly by before responding with a right hook. And so it went—swing, counterpunch, jab, straight, cross, feint, hook. Both brothers sustained a number of bruises in a matter of minutes, but no matter how hard he fought, Ludwig was gradually being forced onto the defensive.

As they fought, it occurred to both men that never had they fought this aggressively. They flew at each other, sometimes reaching an impasse and needing to back off and start again. Ludwig realized with a slight jolt as Gil landed a solid punch to his lower ribcage that he was, in some twisted way, actually enjoying this. It was only when they fought that this scarlet light shone in his brother's burgundy eyes, and after another round of mercilessly beating on each other, Ludwig recognized… he didn't want to lose that.

So it was with renewed vigor that he threw himself back into the fight, despite the fact that he was steadily losing ground. For each step Gilbert took towards him in the hallway with short, restricted jabs and not a lot of room with which to swing, Lud was pushed a step back. The left side of his lower jaw ached fiercely, and he was sure that if it wasn't broken, it was definitely swollen. His lower arms were covered in bruises where he had blocked jabs aimed for his head and neck. Everything from his sternum to his hips felt like he had been kicked by a mule. His knuckles were leaving blood spots every time he hit Gilbert. But he was still losing ground.

_Gil always did try to be the best and strongest,_ he thought almost fondly. He was surprised to find that most of his anger at his brother was mostly gone, and now he was rising to the challenge of a fight. He couldn't back down from a challenge—it just wasn't his way.

Gilbert jerked his head to the right as Ludwig attempted a quick jab, and swung back around with a one-two combo to the gut. Ludwig jumped back to avoid the second, losing him another two steps that Gil quickly took advantage of.

Gil was never going to beat Ludwig. Oh, sure, he _could._ But he wouldn't. If he ever honestly beat on Ludwig to the point where he won, all of the fun of the fight would be gone. There would be no challenge for either of them. It was a mutually accepted point that neither consciously recognized, but was true, nonetheless.

He abruptly grinned at his younger brother, the blood from his split lip staining his teeth giving him a savage, crazed appearance. That alone should have given Ludwig the clue that he was about to do something unexpected, but he only faltered.

Gilbert set his left foot back on the short carpet, brought his knee up, pulled his arms in close to his body, and executed a snap kick that sent Ludwig reeling backwards to crash into the door of their bedroom. By the way it gave under him, it hadn't been properly closed and the younger man sailed to the floor. Gil heard the breath get forced out of his lungs in a painful-sounding _whoof._

While he lay there recovering for a moment, Gil took a couple of booted strides forward, only stopping when both feet rested on either side of Ludwig's waist. His black muscle shirt had inched up on his stomach, and Gilbert let out a slow whistle through his front teeth.

"_Gott,_ what were you thinking?" he tutted, not even giving a second thought to the motion of sitting comfortably over Ludwig's hips. "You know I'm the better fighter." The sudden upheaval of the body under his caught him by surprise, and he found his back on the floor and Ludwig in the position that Gilbert himself had just been in.

"The better boxer, maybe," Ludwig muttered into his ear, panting slightly. Gilbert randomly wondered how quickly that black eye of his brother's would heal. "But _not_ the better fighter. If you want to fight me, you should know how to win before you start. Oh, you know how to piss me off, all right, but not how to fight me."

From his slightly… _precarious _position underneath his brother, Gilbert discovered that what Ludwig was saying was true, and it was not idle boasting. "And believe me when I say, _bruder,_" Ludwig continued in a quiet tone as he leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I am going to make you wish you had never ventured into my study."

Seized by a sudden idea, the silver-haired man abruptly rocked his hips up to grind into Ludwig's, smirking triumphantly as he was met with several choice curses and a swelling between their legs. With a hiss, Ludwig hunched forward, his fingers digging into Gilbert's wrists when he tried halfheartedly to push him off. When he lifted his head at last to glare at the form pinned underneath him, Gil discovered there was a new gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before. And despite all of the pain that accompanied each movement, he couldn't help but think of what an advantageous position he was in. With a guttural growl, Ludwig pushed his hips right back against Gilbert's. A rush of lightheadedness hit him first, then he became painfully aware (literally) of the situation they were in, and Ludwig's threat still bounced around his head.

"Well," he remarked with a wicked grin, "If this is your torture, chain me to the _wall!_"

Ludwig leaned forward, even though it hurt, and nudged his nose up under Gilbert's jaw, keeping his arms pinned by his head. "That can be arranged," he hummed, capturing a bit of the skin on the side of Gil's neck between his teeth. He noticed with a sense of victory that the man beneath him inadvertently tried to push his lower half up as he did this, and when he pulled his head back, Gilbert regarded him with slightly glazed over eyes. There was no mistaking that particular shine, though.

"Mmm, if that's how you like it."

And as Ludwig went back to drawing his lips over Gilbert's collarbone, nipping here and there, the older man couldn't help but think that he might not tell his brother that he had only hidden those papers. After all, if it had resulted like this, he might steal them more often, the possibility of war be damned.

* * *

**Aaand there you have it! :) There's MY ficlet for the collection! ^_^ I'll be honest, this was only my first whack (no pun intended, considering how this started out) at just plain intimacy by the end. Personally, I like the rage-lust factor in this one, and I'm not trying to boast, but I do think it turned out pretty damn good. ^^ **

**And I just wanted to finish this before I go to school in a couple minutes, so later, my freaky darlings!**

**Juliet, over and out!**


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